Granddaddy, 93, and Grandmother, 87. These remarkable pair of people have been a constant source of love and support throughout my entire life. I remember countless trips to the Dallas zoo with my little sister and older cousin. Being the youngest three of six grandkids, we've been called "the three little girls" since those days at the zoo, even though we are now 25, 22, and 19. The three of us climbed in and out of every nook and cranny in their house, which my grandparents have lived in since my mother was in middle school. I have an endless cache of memories of my grandparents in that house-- "meaty things," Braums mint chocolate chip ice cream, feeding the birds in the backyard, Singing in the Rain-- I could go on forever. Within the month, my grandparents have to leave their house. They probably should have moved years ago, but they have refused. It's their house, with their things, where they raised not only their three daughters, but a slew of grandkids as well. Its been a struggle for everyone, but it is now a necessity that they leave the house and move to an "assisted living" kind of place. It is really hard watching people you love and adore become sick and old. They are so proud of all of us, and I realized yesterday how incredibly proud I am of them.